


Within the Fracture

by Winterstar



Series: This is battle; this is war. [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, PTSD, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their love story - interrupted:<br/>“Okay, then if you were in a better place, do you think we would still- we would still have a chance?” Tony asks, his eyes bright as he licks his lower lip.<br/>“I’m not sure, Tony,” Steve says. “Maybe, you never know. We were good, but it was different then, I was different.”<br/>“Too different?” Tony says and there’s a yearning in his expression that Steve might not be prepared to deal with, he’s not sure.<br/>“I don’t know,” Steve says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within the Fracture

Within the Fracture

He dresses nominally, not thinking about it. Jeans, a shirt, his jacket. The ride is brisk, fast, and numbing. He supposes he needs the wash of the road to clear his mind, considering where he’s going, considering he hasn’t faced the truth of his feelings in quite a while. 

He drives into Brooklyn near the time everyone else calls morning. He’s been up for hours already, on his bike, driving up interstate 95. New York in the Spring time is nice, the weather has almost reached the point of no return where hell and humidity descend on the steel mountains. Though, he recalls a time when Spring meant hay fever and difficulty breathing. He wonders if that will plague him today, even though it is impossible with the serum. 

He checks into a small hotel, he’s not sure if he’ll stay the night, but he might need it to clear his head. Throwing his bag on the dresser, he digs through it. One last item before he leaves the small hotel room, he picks up the chain carefully. He touches it with reverence. It isn’t fancy or expensive. Just a chain that dog tags are routinely hung on. He hasn’t worn tags in ages, but today he wants to wear this chain, today it means something. Slipping it on, he tucks it under his shirt and then zips on his jacket.

In minutes he’s in the underground parking garage, on his bike and traveling toward his destination. The skyline is bright and beautiful, shining like crystal against the azure sky and he smiles as he sees the big ugly Tower in New York. It isn’t his final stop, but he ends up fairly close to it. Normally the small café has outdoor seating in the summer months, but they haven’t set it up yet. It’s only April and weather in New York has a tendency to play the trickster, flirting with the heat of summer one day and then falling back into the harshness of winter the next. 

Parking his bike, he walks to the building and enters the main lobby where the café – his destination- resides. The light from outside is bright and burns everything white like bleach. Sometimes he hates the full brightness of the sun, sometimes he only wants to see the colors. He passes through the large lobby with its mosaic tiled floor, the sculpted fixtures of gargoyles with lamps jutting out of their grasp. The building had been constructed in the early twenties, and the tiled floor has symbols that still disturb him. Yet he tries to remember back in the day the symbols didn’t mean what they mean today – things change, evolve. Good or bad. 

The café is quiet this time of day. It’s not quite mid-morning; a lull in activity keeps the place almost intimate. It strikes Steve that the place would be so close and almost familiar. He would have thought Tony would pick something brash, loud, and distracting in order to continue to hide from Steve.

When he enters, the hostess nods to him but he sees that his companion has already arrived. He raises his finger and greets Tony as he joins him at the table.

“Good to see you, Tony.”

Tony looks pinched almost as if someone’s punched him recently and, although the bruise isn’t there, he still feels the hurt. It occurs to Steve the last time he sat face to face with Tony, he sported a bruise that Steve had given him – accidentally in a fit from a nightmare. He bows his head, takes a calming breath and then glances back up. 

Tony puts an arm over the back of the booth. “Surprised you were even able to accept JARVIS’ invite to come and meet. Barely keep up with your antics these days. Heard you’ve been globetrotting a bit lately.”

“A little, still a bunch of Hydra cells to clean up,” Steve says. Luckily the waitress comes and Steve orders his coffee, black and a quick egg sandwich. Tony only orders coffee.

“You and Sam hanging out together quite a bit,” Tony says and examines him with a critical eye as if he’s searching for clues.

“Sam’s a good guy, I owe him a lot,” Steve says and picks up the paper napkin the silverware is wrapped in. He releases the little paper tab and the fork, spoon, and butter knife cascade out, clattering onto the wooden table. He plays with the paper tab, rolling it. He doesn’t look at Tony when he speaks. “I owe him, a lot.”

The silence, the one Steve promised wouldn’t fall over them drops like a brick on top of them and he smothers in it. He’s not sure how to make it stop. How should he speak to Tony? Tony’s the one who asked for the meeting. 

“You needed to talk to me?” Steve says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says and shifts around in the seat. “We’re forming the Avengers, or reforming you might say. You know with all the global threats, Hydra, new evil guys, and with SHIELD off the table, I thought it might be a good idea to re-evaluate the initiative and fund it so that, you know, we could respond to any, you know, needs. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” Steve says and then thanks the waitress when she brings the coffee. He opens a packet of sugar and dumps it in. He stirs the cup.

“You always do that,” Tony says.

“Do what?”

Tony only shakes his head. “Anyhow, are you in?” He hasn’t touched his coffee and he looks like he’s about to bolt. 

“I’m not sure,” Steve says and that stops Tony. “I’ll have to talk with my counselor.”

“Your, what?” Tony stops his exodus from the bench and settles back into the seat. “I thought you were talking with Sam. Isn’t he some feel good therapist?”

Steve shakes his head. “No.” He draws it out. “Yes, he’s works at the VA with vets dealing with PTSD, but he’s not my counselor.” Lifts a shoulder and an eyebrow, and the he says, “Not the best thing to do to talk with someone close. Sometimes, sometimes it’s better to get an outsider’s perspective.”

“Christ, you need to move to California with all the freaks and geeks on therapy out there.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted me to get my head on straight?” 

Tony avoids looking at him, but thankfully the waitress appears again and places the larger than Steve realized it would be sandwich with a pancakes, bacon, and home fries on the side in front of Steve. “On the house, for Captain America.” She winks at him and scoffs a little at Tony before she disappears.

He chuckles. “That girl has the hots for you.”

“Does she?” Steve peers around the edge of the booth, trying to get a good look at her. 

Tony draws him back in. “So, you’ve been going to see a counselor?”

“One of Sam’s friends from the VA. It’s good actually, I like her. A lot. She’s sane,” he says and picks up the sandwich. He eats it as Tony watches.

“I’m glad, Steve, I’m really, I’m happy that you found someone to talk to,” Tony says and his words are fond, almost soft in their aspect. “Still eating like a bear I see.”

“Still living with the serum,” Steve says and finishes off the sandwich. “Just drove in from D.C.. Got a room and came here. I’m hungry.” When Steve glances up at Tony from his hunched position, he finds that liquid look, like smooth heat emanating from his eyes, from his stance. Steve inhales sharply as if he’s just smelled something acidic that might bring tears to his eyes, and his shoulders go tight.

“You always did have an appetite, which we can deal with when you move in,” Tony says and knocks the table a couple of times with his knuckles.

He’s not even looking at Steve when he drops that bomb. Coughing, Steve says, “What?”

“Yeah, we all decided. Well, Bruce and I – but mainly I decided all the Avengers need to be in one place for the next major catastrophe. We cannot have me running around after a fire breathing maniac with just Rhodey or you, you know letting Sam catch you when you jump off of Helicarriers.” 

“I’m not sure that’s,” Steve pauses and touches the chain he has around his throat. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”

Tony catches the movement of his hand to the chain and clears his throat. “Listen, it’s not like that. I would never ask you to, you know. What? I guess I did. But whatever, I’m asking you and everyone else to move into the Tower. You’ll have your own floor. You don’t even have to see me on a regular basis, only when we’re fighting.” He stops and then realizes where he stopped. He stumbles over the words. “Fighting the enemy, not- you know each other, the enemy.” He leans back with slumped shoulders. “God this is hard.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Steve says and ignores the rest of his food. He thinks of those moments after Tony left, he recalls the hard crash of it into his solar plexus, how he stood stoic and silent while Sam waited for him to explode. It happened, it did, but in little and subtle ways. That’s how it is, not a drama, not a scene, just a slow and inevitable descent to the pit below. “I’m sorry this all happened, Tony.”

“Me too,” Tony says. He looks spectacular, Steve thinks. His hair is a mess and Steve can detect a tiny smear of grease along the collar of his jacket. “I hope some of it wasn’t so horrible for you.”

“It was good, a lot of it,” Steve says and he wants to say all of it, but that wouldn’t be true. It never is, just in retrospect. He remembers how sardonic and caustic Tony can be, but also so generous and caring it takes his breath away. He wants to say how much he misses Tony, but he knows it isn’t the right time or place. 

“We had a lot of fun,” Tony says and he softens a degree. He lowers his gaze and says, “Have you found him, yet?”

“No.” Steve leaves it at that, because right now, it isn’t the time for that either.

Tony goads. “Not yet, you mean.”

“Tony, please, don’t.” Steve inhales and the pit beckons. “I couldn’t say this then, and I don’t know if you want to hear it now, but Bucky will always be an important part of my life. I can’t ignore that. I need to be there for him.”

Tony chews at the side of his lip and taps the table with his fingers as if he’s counting, trying to hold his temper. “I get that, I know that. Bruce, he’s not that kind of doctor Bruce, he – we talked about it. A little.”

“I’m glad you had someone to talk to,” Steve says, though the thought of Bruce knowing his dirty laundry isn’t so comfortable that Steve would want to live anywhere close to him. 

“Yeah, Brucey boy is kind of a good person to ping stuff off of – strangely, even in his view of things.”

“Great, good,” Steve says. The silence tight and constricting falls over them again. Steve touches the chain along his neck and Tony eyes him as he does it. He drops his hand. “The initiative?”

“Yeah, I’m working on some projects dealing with artificial intelligence. The development of an A.I. to keep an eye on things-.”

“You know Hydra had Zola do that with his algorithm, in a way. Reading a digital notebook to predict the future. Now we’re venturing into that arena? Do we really want to trust a machine to tell us what’s good and bad, who’s the next target?” Steve asks.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Zola was archaic compared to what I’m putting together. Don’t assume that having an intelligence designed to assist in our safety is a bad thing.”

“I’m not, I’m assuming that an intelligence out of control could end up being even more of a detriment than Zola trapped in a box under a munition building.”

Tony bends closer, over the table. “Your antiquated ideas of the future need to be adjusted. It _is_ a digital age, and we can’t dismiss it. What we need to do is to use it to our advantage.”

Steve doesn’t back down, but leans closer, nearer, almost touching Tony. “That’s the excuse of all governments, political bodies, or individuals who think they’re smarter than the rest of us. Just because you have a technology doesn’t mean you should use it. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.”

“And you would know what valor is because you think you’re some kind of knight in shining armor, don’t you?” 

“I thought you were the one with the shining armor and the ego to match,” Steve snaps back and it feels like he’s fallen into the same routine from back in the days of Loki’s staff and the Helicarrier. 

Tony chuckles and his hot breath streams over Steve’s lips. “Good one, Spangles, but the truth is you think your duty is to save the world, but you can’t. No one can. I learned a lot when my house in Malibu fell into the ocean, but the main thing is that people are nasty, cruel bastards with not many of them worthy of saving.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “But you want to form the Avengers, start it up, and get it going. For what? Save those nasty bastards? For glory? Because I’m not in it for that.”

“No, you’re in it for the same reason I am,” Tony says. “You’re in it because you don’t like bullies. I know, everyone knows that Cap. Bruce, Thor, me, the whole gang, we want to change the world, build a new one. Show people that there’s something better to hope for.”

“And the nasty bastards?” 

“We take out the ones that bully the little guy, I thought you’d like that,” Tony says and they’re so close, the drag of gravity, the pull could bring him to touch Tony, to kiss Tony, but he knows better, remembers the words both Sam and his counselor told him. He drops back and away. 

For a second a shift of regret passes over Tony’s face. It disappears as quickly as it appeared. Tony pushes back and says, “Listen, you might not want to believe it, you might not want to support it, but the fact of the matter remains that there’s a shitload of people out there with the means to use technology the wrong way. We’ve got a chance to use it the right way-.”

“What’s the right way?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Tony narrows his eyes at Steve. 

It feels like a bore into his soul and Steve shifts uncomfortably, passing a hand over the chain of his necklace. “I mean who decides what’s right and what’s wrong?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Cap, with an A.I. in the works, totally devoid of human emotions, wants and needs, not adherent to any ideologies, we have a fighting chance to change the world, to make it a better place, to get it out from under the nasty bastard’s thumb.” 

The pride beaming off of Tony blinds and Steve’s reminded of the sun glare in the lobby. Too much of a good thing burns, hurts. “Yeah, maybe.”

Tony reaches over and places a hand, so casual, so natural on Steve’s wrist on the table, as he cajoles Steve into agreeing. “Come on, Capsicle, it will do you good to get out of that viper’s nest, D.C.. Come back to New York, come back home.”

“Home,” Steve says and both of them stop and stare at one another. There’s a space of time that aches with need and wishes and dreams still undreamt. 

Tony clears his throat again and slips his hand away. “You know what I mean, back home, you grew up in New York. You don’t belong down there. Come back to the Yankees.”

“I was always a Dodgers fan,” Steve says and the echo of the word home pings back and forth in his brain like a wayward ball. 

“Well, can’t help you there,” Tony says with a smile. “Come on, be Captain America, lead this team with me.”

“Lead a team?”

“The Avengers need a leader. We need you, you’re tactical, strategy, everything.”

He wants to ask if Tony needs him, but he knows it’s inappropriate and his counselor would frown upon it. He considers it, does his best imitation of thoughtful Steve Rogers. “I can lead from D.C..”

“If there’s an attack we need to move out quickly, can’t be waiting on one of the members of the team who doesn’t fly,” Tony points out. He seems to be enjoying the little bit of cat and mouse they’re playing. His eyes dance and he likes to watch the blush come to Steve’s cheeks. 

“Not sure moving to New York would be a great idea. I’m still under a lot of pressure after the whole Helicarrier thing in the Potomac last year,” Steve says. “Lots of scrutiny.”

At this Tony grimaces and shakes his head. He’s up for the challenge. “Don’t tell me you can’t leave, or that you can’t go far. You’ve been all over the globe looking for Barnes, so don’t tell me one way or the other that there are pressures keeping you in one place.”

He bites back his reply, because this could disintegrate easily, he could leap back in and snap at Tony about his business and Bucky. He chooses differently. “Have you talked to the others?”

Tony clicks his tongue because Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. “Well, Bruce was there, so yeah him. And I talked to Clint, he’s still pissed that he had to go and do side missions by the way to keep our cover. Thor’s been around a bit, so he’s in when he’s in if you know what I mean.”

“Hmm, maybe?”

“I thought maybe you could help with Natasha, can’t find her. Clint’s not much help. He’s been in and out so much I never get a chance to talk to him at length about it,” Tony says.

“Wonder what he’s up to,” Steve says absently. “But I can get in touch with Natasha. How about Sam?”

Tony rotates his shoulders. “Why? I thought he’s a VA guy?”

“He’s a good partner and a great pilot or flyer or whatever you want to call it. He’s good in one of those Falcon things.”

“Are you dating him?”

The bluntness of the question stuns Steve and he gags a little on his answer. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me, are you dating him?” Tony says and he’s deadly serious, and dangerous. There’s a look of possession in Tony’s eyes that Steve doesn’t think belongs there.

“If I was, and I’m not, it wouldn’t be your business, Tony.”

Before him, Tony physically recedes, deflates from his stance like a ram about to charge. Tony waves off Steve’s statement like it means nothing. “Okay then I’ll make a floor for him. No biggie.”

“And if I was dating him?” Steve asks.

“You’re not, so let’s not worry about it,” Tony says.

“I think we should discuss it, I think you broke up with me and don’t really have a say in whom I date.”

“Probably, no, yes, I don’t know. I’ll have to consult Pepper on that one,” Tony tries for light and funny but it comes off a little too forced, with a slice of acidic on the side. 

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Tony. I’m a grown man, I can date who I want to date,” Steve says but notices even as he states this that Tony nearly cuts him off, rebuffs him, tries to deny him. He touches the chain around his neck again.

“You keep doing that,” Tony says, his voice cut with hostility. “Those his dog tags or something? A little memento of Barnes?” 

Steve jerks his hand away and scowls, “No, Bucky’s tags were lost with him when he fell, if you really need to know.” He studies Tony for only a moment and then adds, “Listen, if you want me to come and join your little band of merry men.”

“And women, remember Natasha’s there, and Hill, sometimes Pepper-.”

“Understood,” Steve says. “If you want me to join then you have to be prepared that I’m not your boyfriend anymore. We’re not dating in any capacity. I can see any guy or any girl I want-.”

“Girl?” Tony chokes a little.

“Bisexual,” Steve says and continues without a pause. “If you can accept that I am going to date, that I am going to keep looking for my friend then I’ll accept your proposal.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony says and scrubs his hands through his hair causing it to stand up on end. “You, you’re seeking dates. You’re not saving yourself for Barnes?”

“No, no I’m not.”

He sees the tide of anger come over Tony. He struggles to muster enough energy to put it down. He grips the edge of the table, his knuckles white with tension. “You’re telling me that you’re not saving yourself for the great and powerful Bucky Barnes. That you would date other people. That you would even fall in love and possibly marry someone else.”

He knows he’s treading on difficult terrain, that there are potholes and sinkholes and barbs and wires across the landscape. “Yes, Tony. It’s a possibility.”

“You son of a bitch, you bastard,” Tony hisses low enough to keep eyes off of them. “What the hell, when I proposed you couldn’t give a crap about me. You said no. I wasn’t fucking good enough for you.”

Steve cringes at the tirade. When Tony finishes, his breath hot and heavy between them, Steve says, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s taken some time to get here, to this place.”

“What fucking place?”

“You have to know, Tony, I wasn’t prepared, not sure I’m really prepared now. But where I was, mentally, you were right. I was using our relationship, our play, as an escape,” Steve forces the words out. He hadn’t intended to be so honest, but in the end, he needs to confess this to Tony. He owes Tony. “So, I guess I should thank you for leaving me.”

Tony goes pale. “I didn’t leave you.”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“I called Sam to be with you,” Tony counters and there’s no color in his cheeks, he looks despondent. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“And thank you for that,” Steve says. “I’m only sorry I didn’t think of how it must have affected you.”

“Me?” Tony says and waves at him. Color returns but the smile that accompanies it reminds Steve of the ones Tony uses for the press. “Don’t worry about me, Capsicle. You gotta do a lot more than that to break me.”

Steve turns away for a moment, seeing the lobby starting to fill with some tourists as they admire the architecture. “But, where were we?”

“You were telling me how I can’t demand information on your dating life.”

“Right, right,” Steve says and nods. The silence weighs on them again and Steve doesn’t know how to make it go away. 

“Listen,” Tony says. “If things were different, if you were in a better place, are you in a better place now?”

“I think I’m getting there?” Steve answers with a question because he doesn’t want to commit to something he hasn’t tested yet.

“Okay, then if you were in a better place, do you think we would still- we would still have a chance?” Tony asks, his eyes bright as he licks his lower lip.

“I’m not sure, Tony,” Steve says. “Maybe, you never know. We were good, but it was different then, I was different.”

“Too different?” Tony says and there’s a yearning in his expression that Steve might not be prepared to deal with, he’s not sure.

“I don’t know,” Steve says.

“Was it hard?” Tony says, changing gears so quickly Steve nearly gets whiplash.

“Hard?”

“After I left, I worried, I almost turned back a few times,” Tony says and picks at the edge of the table.

“It wasn’t easy,” Steve says remembering how Sam had to coax him out of bed, recalling standing in the shower and letting the water go cold as it beat down on him. He felt nothing then and that was part of the problem. He wanted Tony to dull his senses yet at the same time, he’d become numb to the real pain scorching everything inside of him to ash. “Sam, he was good. He’s gotta way about him that helps. He cares.”

“I’m glad.”

“You made a good call,” Steve says and feels a little like he’s complimenting a fellow soldier. While Tony hates to be called that, in the end, they are something like soldiers now – Avengers called upon to protect the world, the innocent. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll come.”

“Sure you don’t want to check with the little counselor woman first?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Stop. I’ll call her. She’ll probably want to see me for a while as I transition.”

“I can get my private jet to fly you to D.C. any time you want,” Tony offers with a wink.

“I think I can get there on my own, thanks,” Steve says and he’s ready to leave, because if he doesn’t Tony’s presence is all it would take for him to follow blindly toward the path of ruin. 

“Suit yourself,” Tony says. He tosses a few bills on the table. Standing, he looks down at Steve. He waits for a moment before he says anything. “I still care, Steve, I really do. Once you get your head screwed on right, whether or not you want to be with Barnes. Maybe, maybe we could, at least, be friends.”

“And if I want to be with Bucky, would you still be friends with me?”

Tony looks into the distance, but Steve knows he’s not seeing the lobby or the sun bleached outside. “I could try, for you I would try.”

Steve nods and remains quiet.

“I have to go,” Tony says as he pulls out his phone. “Pepper is going to kill me.”

Steve climbs to his feet and sticks out his hand. “It was good seeing you again, Tony.”

“Yeah, it was good to see you again, too, Capsicle.” He takes the offered hand and squeezes it. His hand is callused and strong, and everything that Steve remembers. “Call JARVIS and get the move set up, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Steve says and they part. As Tony reaches the doors of the small café, Steve calls out, “And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to,” Steve says and realizes for the first time, it is true.

“What’s that?” He walks a few steps toward Steve to close the gap. 

“I don’t want to be with Bucky, in that way. But I still want to help him, he matters a lot to me.”

A flourish of red blushes over Tony’s cheeks and his eyes sparkle. He grasps Steve’s hand again with two of his. “Good to know.” He hangs on a little too long, but not long enough. “Goodbye, Capsicle, see you soon.”

“Soon.” 

Later that evening, he packs up his bag, deciding not to spend the night in the hotel. He can drive back to D.C. tonight and spend the long ride on his bike thinking over the events of the day. He adjusts the bag on the bike, attaches the shield to the front, and swings his leg over the seat. As he does the necklace gently touches his sternum. 

Before he gears up the bike, he slips fingers down the chain and pulls out the necklace. The light glints of the metal, the beautiful perfect circle of the ring. He doesn’t know if Tony went looking for it after he left the cottage; he doesn’t know if Tony has an inkling that Steve found the ring sitting on the bedside table. 

He picked it up, all those weeks ago, picked it up and stared at it like it was an ancient artifact. It had been a promise, a gift of a promise to be together forever. Steve hadn’t know why he couldn’t say yes, why his words choked in his throat and nearly suffocated him. He’d only known that Tony offered him something that seemed elusive and impossible.

He offered him permanence. 

Nothing in Steve’s life had ever been permanent. Not his father or mother. Not his hopes and dreams. Not his time. Not his friends and brothers he fought with. Not the memories Peggy held. Not SHIELD. Not Bucky. 

Nothing.

The ring offered as a gift, as a vow to connect and to be permanent represented an impossibility to Steve. If he held it, if he accepted it, what did that mean? To him, at the time, it had only meant that Tony would be taken away from him as well. 

He frowned as he lined the ring with his finger. After all of his fears, Tony had left, he had been taken away by Steve’s own reservations. 

He ended up with less than nothing. 

Tucking the ring back under his shirt, he slammed the bike into gear and started on his journey back to D.C., and home. But he realizes as he drives away from New York City, he was getting farther and farther away from home. 

Smiling, he navigates the bike toward interstate 95 and the nation’s capital. He has a move to plan, a few people to notify, and there’s that one other thing. 

His girlfriend, Sharon.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for hanging out with this series, even if we are in a very difficult 'battle' part of it. I am working on the next major story; _Standard Operating Procedures_
> 
> If you want you can hear updates on me, my writing, and well puppies at my [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)


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